Oct 13

Oct 13 Marathon Madness

Jack Siegel

Chicago, Chicago Tourism, Festivals, Sports, Things to Do in Chicago

“Faust: If you ever see me loll at ease, Then it’s all yours, you can have it, my life!

Mephisto: Done! A bet!”

— Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, Faust: A Tragedy (1808)

“Doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo
Run, run, run
Doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo
Run, run, run”

— Run Run Run, Jo Jo Gunne from Big Chain (1972)

Some 47,000 runners from around the world converged on Chicago this weekend for the 2024 Bank of America Chicago Marathon. Yesterday, I, like everyone else, had trouble traversing Michigan Avenue. It was packed with runners picking up their race packets for today’s 26.2-mile dash and doing some last-minute shopping. Italian food would have tasted great, but there were too many runners carbo loading, making it impossible to get into one of Chicago’s many Italian eateries.

Saturday, however, came to an end, which meant up and early this morning. Grant Park opened to the runners at 5:30 AM. At 7:20 AM the men in racing wheelchairs rolled out of the gate. Ten minutes later, the first wave of runners crossed the starting line.

The conditions were perfect, with the temperature hovering around 50 degrees. The skies were partly cloudy, with beautiful purplish-grey clouds floating above a course that wound its way through 29 neighborhoods. Perfect running weather.

Some 1.7 million spectators lined the course route—or so the organizers claimed. The big question: Where to watch the race? I decided to work my neighborhood in Lakeview rather than heading downtown. Fifteen years ago, the race started later, and the starting and finish lines in Grant Park were readily accessible. As the marathon has grown more corporate, the organizers have restricted access to Grant Park, so there really is no reason to head downtown.

About 10 minutes before the lead runners passed my building on Inner Lake Shore Drive, I stepped outside. I was surprised by how few spectators lined the street, but as the race progressed, the streets filled up with onlookers, particularly Broadway.

Shortly after I stepped outside, race officials on bicycles and motorcycle cops came into view. Then suddenly, the elite runners appeared, and just as quickly, were gone. I ran two blocks west to Broadway, where I had a second look at the leaders as they headed south on Broadway. Packed in with the men was Kenyan female runner Ruth Chepngetich, who would set the women’s world record before the end of the day, crossing the finish line just 2 hours, 11 minutes, and 53 seconds after the start. Fellow Kenyan John Korir won the men’s race, with a time of 2 hours, 4 minutes, and 39 seconds.

Chepngetich and Korir, together with the other elite runners, received lots of attention, which they were more than entitled to given their feats. But the thousands of people who passed in front of my lenses deserve equal credit. No prize money for them. Just the satisfaction of knowing that they trained hard, and then gave their all. As a former runner who never competed in a marathon, I was awe struck by each and every runner—even those who probably didn’t finish the full 26.2 miles.

Having not photographed in at least a decade, I was surprised by how “photographer” friendly many of the runners were as they passed by. Lots of people mugged for the camera. I even saw several stop for an Instagram moment with friends along the route. I would have needed every bit of energy had I had run the race. No time for photographers or friends.

About two-thirds of the way into the race, I realized that I had not seen one jersey, sweatshirt, sign, banner, or button emblazoned with Vice President Kamala Harris’s or Donald J. Trump’s names, or for that matter, with any references to any politician. Nor did I see any Israeli or Palestinian flags. I noticed one runner wearing a sweatshirt bearing a Palestinian flag, but I suspect that was less a political statement than just what was in his closet.

I was so surprised by the absence of political signaling that I asked five or six people whether they noticed the absence of political statements. After they gave it some thought, all expressed similar surprise. When I returned home, I checked the rules to determine whether the was some sort of prohibition. None that I saw.

Apparently, there was a tacit agreement to leave all the division and political crap behind for the day. Once again, athletic competition encourages us to focus on what we have in common rather than what divides us. It was definitely a refreshing Sunday morning—no Face the Nation, Meet the Press, Velshi, or Fox News Sunday. Just athletic spectacle and achievement. Competition, but more against self than the other runners. Striving for transcendence and infinitude.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It. The Images Are Not Necessarily in Exact Chronological Order]